


Forth They Went Together

by apliddell



Series: Moonrise [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Chronic Illness, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Father Christmas - Freeform, Found Family, M/M, Mild Angst, POV Draco Malfoy, Three Broomsticks, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Werewolf Teddy Lupin, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), domestic drarry, lycanthropy, wizarding activism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apliddell/pseuds/apliddell
Summary: The holiday season unfolds as Harry and Draco celebrate a hard won achievement.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Series: Moonrise [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992589
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

Draco woke slowly, so comfortable and cosy that the barrier between wakefulness and sleep was quite hazy. Someone warm was pressed to his back and breathing deep, even breaths. He was fairly sure it was Toad, because it seemed to be rather warmer than Harry. Draco shifted a little under the blankets, and the answering gentle thump of Toad’s tail told him that Harry was not with him. 

Draco stretched out a bit, feeling for the soreness in his limbs, for the headache he knew to expect immediately following one of his full moon transformations. He ached all over, as if recovering from a bad bout of flu, but his head wasn’t bad. He did sense trouble on the horizon from his knees and made a mental note to bring his cane if he had to step out of the house at all. 

A wisp of motion from his night table caught the tail of his eye, and Draco looked up to find a pot of tea steaming under one of Molly Weasley’s excellent magical tea cosies. Draco had once known one of them to keep a pot hot for three days. He pushed himself up to sitting and found underneath his poodle mug a bit of parchment, which he unfolded to find a note. Draco poured himself a cup of tea and sipped as he read, 

_ D,  _

_ You’re still asleep, and I have to go into work. I’m so late! Fantastic news!! I’ll let you read it for yourself. Daily Prophet on the worktop in the kitchen, underneath the pot of curried mutton from last night. Warmed it up for you before I left. There’s no more rice, but it’s not bad over boiled potatoes which I have also warmed up. Blue dish on the stove. Please eat and take your pain potion!!! You are brilliant, and we’ll celebrate tonight!!! _

_ xxx,  _

_ H _

When Draco had finished two cups of tea, he pushed himself carefully out of bed, and dressed slowly, only pulling on a set of Harry’s pyjamas and his own flannel dressing gown, before stuffing his feet into his slippers. He called Toad to him, and they went off to the kitchen together. 

The pot of stew was situated as described, and when Draco lifted the lid off, he was so overcome with hungry anticipation that his knees nearly buckled. He got a bowl from the cabinet and served himself boiled potatoes and curried mutton, before taking a seat at the kitchen table, his legs already rather wobbly from the exertion of standing so long. 

Draco was on his third bowl before he remembered that there was meant to be some fantastic news for him in the Daily Prophet. He reckoned it was to do with Ginny and the Harpies, so he rose carefully from his seat and lifted the mutton pot, prepared to turn over to the sport page. He was startled to find his good news on the very front page. 

The headline read,  _ SWEEPING INTERCOMMUNITY RELATIONS REFORM BILL PASSED BY WIZENGAMOT  _ but the accompanying photo was an old photo of Draco himself from one of his first testimonies to the Wizengamot. The Draco in the photo raised his left arm to tear back his sleeve and reveal his scarred Dark Mark. With his heart beating quick with anticipation, Draco unfolded the paper to read. 

_ Last night, in their final session before Christmas recess, the Wizengamot narrowly passed a massive intercommunity relations reform at 26 ayes to 25 nays with Chief Witch Minerva McGonogall casting the tie-breaking vote. The reform indicates expansions to protections in education, healthcare, and employment for certain Beings, including perhaps most controversially, lycanthropes.  _

_ Among other things, this bill stipulates that effective immediately, lycanthropes will no longer be classified as Creatures and will no longer be required to register with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The existing Lycanthrope Registry will be dissolved. This point was one of the most hotly contested elements of the new legislation, and many speculated that it would need to be stricken before the bill could be passed.  _

_ This legislation with all its new rights is a victory for firebrand advocacy group, The Citizens Committee for the Ethical Treatment of Lycanthropes, which sent young rejuvenator and notoriously reformed Death Eater Draco Malfoy, 24 of Hogsmeade to offer testimony in the bill’s nascency. Mr Malfoy’s candid testimony and the testimony of the 49 other lycanthropes organised to speak by the CCETL was said to be instrumental in swaying opinions in the court. Consequently, the bill has been colloquially referred to as ‘Draco’s Law.’ Ironically, since the legislation was passed on the night of the full moon, Mr Malfoy was not available for comment at time of going to press.  _

_ In her final remarks before calling the vote, Head Witch McGonagall said,  _

_ ‘ _ It is past time Magical Britain joined the twenty-first century and learnt to treat our most vulnerable citizens with dignity, compassion, and respect. A diversity of thought and experience is essential for a healthy Magical society, and we are impoverished by the loss of each mind which is unable to participate fully in Magical public life. Furthermore our recent past entanglement with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named shows us that a Purebloods first or even Wizards first attitude is one ripe for abuse and destruction.’

_ Critics have called Chief Witch McGonogall’s comments dangerously prescriptive, and Minister of Magic hopeful, Terrence Mittleman has already sworn to overturn the legislation if elected. ‘It’s not so much the first waves of a turning tide as it is a massive government overreach, which is much less surprising than it is galling’ said Mr Mittleman to Daily Prophet reporters, late Thursday evening. ‘This is exactly like how Mad Minnie swindled us with the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.’ For an opinion piece penned by Mr Mittleman on the Wizengamot’s muggleborn-friendly reform of that Decree last year, please see page 37.  _

_Sitting Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt has said he will sign the new intercommunity relations reform bill on Monday. For more complete information on the rights and restrictions outlined_ _in the new legislation, please see page 14._

Draco read the article through twice, then took his pain potion, and read it again. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. After a minute of pacing and wringing his hands, which very much interested Toad, he lit the kitchen fire then took a pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the worktop and tossed it into the fire to Floo call The Burrow. 

Molly Weasley answered, “Oh hello Draco, dear I thought we might hear from you today. Wonderful news about that new law, isn’t it?”

“Good morning, Molly. You look well. Yes, I’m ecstatic.”

“Sweet of you to say so, dear. How are you feeling today? Have you eaten? I could do you a little roast beef, if you’re hungry.”

“Oh thanks, I actually have just eaten. Feeling all right, thank you for asking. Is-”

He was interrupted by Ginny’s voice ringing out from somewhere in the back of the house, “Is that him? Mum, why didn’t you tell me?!” Ginny came pounding in, still twisting her long box braids back into a knot. 

Molly turned away from the fire to face her, looking rather stern, “There’s no need to shout the house down, Ginevra.”

Ginny paid her no mind and bent to greet Draco, “Fangs! You’ve heard? Step back, and I’ll come through. I’ve got to be off to practise in a moment.” 

“Oh Ginny, why can’t you call him by his proper name?” scolded Molly. “‘Fangs’ is horrid.” 

Ginny laughed, “His whole nickname is actually Lovely Fangs. It’s a compliment, Mum! Draco’s lovely and so are his fangs.”

“I really don’t mind,” put in Draco. 

Ginny grabbed her broomstick from where it was propped against the wall, “Bye Mum. I’m sleeping at Luna’s tonight, so I’ll see you tomorrow dinner.” She kissed Molly on the cheek, “Coming through, Fangs!” 

“Lovely to see you again, Molly,” called Draco as he stepped back from fire. 

Ginny followed him out a moment later and didn’t hesitate in throwing her arms about him in a hug and sending her broomstick clattering to the floor. Draco staggered a little, and Toad pranced about them, barking. 

“Shush, Toad,” said Draco ineffectually. “All right, Oggie.” He patted her back, “You’re going to knock me on my arse.” 

Ginny released Draco and pushed a chair toward him, “Sorry. God, I’m so pleased! I can hardly believe it. Harry absolutely forbade us all from owling you, because he thought it’d wake you up.”

“It does wake me up,” Draco grinned helplessly. 

Ginny hopped in place so that her knot came loose and all her braids tumbled over her face. She tossed her head and began to put them back up again, “We must have a party!”

Draco sat down, “Not tonight!”

Ginny snorted, “One single night after the full moon? Am I insane? Oh how was it? You okay?” 

“Brimming with my customary virility, Og, thanks.” 

Ginny laughed, “Yeah, you look it. Smells good in here; did Harry cook?” 

“Curried mutton in the pot on the worktop, but I’ve finished the potatoes.” 

“I’ve had lunch,” said Ginny, digging a spoon out of a drawer and helping herself to the pot anyway. 

“Practise,” Draco reminded her as she was looking thoughtfully at the bread bin. 

Ginny dropped the spoon on the worktop with a clang, “Shit! Oh Circe’s tits! Gwynog’s gonna do her nut. Gotta go. Gonna use your Floo.” Ginny gave Draco a big smacking kiss on the forehead, “See you soon, Fangs!”

“Off you pop,” said Draco fondly, aiming a pretend kick at her. Ginny tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the kitchen fire, then stepped into it and vanished. 

Toad came and rested his chin on Draco’s knee, looking up at him lovingly. 

“Quite right, Toad. We ought to go back to bed,” Draco rose and took the paper from where he’d left it on the table, then made his way slowly back to the bedroom. 

…

Draco spent much of the day dozing with Toad, as he generally did immediately following the full moon. He got up a couple of times, once to fetch himself a snack and again to go out with his cane to check on Hestia in her heated hutch and to the solarium to cast a Watering Charm on his potions garden. 

His brief time out of doors made him so tired that he flopped onto the sofa once back inside the house. He reached for a book with the idea that he might read a bit, but he didn’t even get through a page before putting it aside and drifting off to sleep. 

Draco woke to find Harry peeping in at him from the kitchen doorway, his expression doting. 

Draco sat up and tried to smooth his hair, “Still obsessed with me, I see.” 

“‘Lo you,” said Harry fondly. “How was your day?”

Draco smiled coyly, “Oh, it was fine. How was yours?” Draco rose from the sofa and stretched languorously, but Harry crossed the room in two steps, wrapped him up in a hug and lifted him easily right off the ground, knocking off his own glasses in the process. “Put me down, you beautiful oaf,” Draco kissed the top of Harry’s head and slapped him lightly on either shoulder. 

Harry lowered him to the floor and kissed him, “You did it.”

Draco Summoned Harry’s glasses with his wand and pushed them carefully onto Harry’s face. “Not just me,”he said, trying to hide a smile. 

“Special dinner tonight,” Harry wagged a finger as if it were a threat. “And a party of course. Ginny  _ will _ do me a mischief if I don’t throw a party for your fabulous accomplishments. Maybe next weekend? Or is that too soon? I don’t want to push it off til January.”

Draco considered, “I could do next weekend with a Strengthening Solution. You should probably have some as well, to be honest. Could you pop to the apothecary on your way home tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Lovely,” Draco rubbed his hands together. “And I heard something about special dinner?”

“Game pie,” Harry made for the kitchen, beckoning Draco to follow along with him. “Treacle tart, and I’ve been saving a batch of peach ice cream.”

Draco kissed Harry again, “I thought we'd finished the peach ice cream! Sneak. You spoil me.” He followed Harry into the kitchen and watched him wash his hands and tie on a pinnie. “Glass of wine?”

“You’ve read my mind,” said Harry. 

Draco Summoned both the wine and the glasses, but ran into a bit of trouble when he tried to uncork and pour with his wand. The bottle burst spectacularly, and they both dropped onto their faces to avoid a shower of wine and glass shards. Draco rather more heavily than Harry. Toad skittered out of the room, but returned a moment later with Draco’s cane in his teeth. 

“Sit, Toad,” Harry called sharply, looking round at all the glass shards. "Stay." Toad wavered briefly but did sit in the doorway of the kitchen, still holding Draco’s cane. 

“Well,” said Harry, rising cautiously. “At least I hadn’t started to cook yet!”

Draco laughed shakily, his heart still pounding and let Harry help him to his feet and into a chair. “If you give me a moment, I can clean that up,” he said apologetically when Harry Summoned a broom and began to sweep up the mess. 

“Don’t be stupid,” said Harry lightly. “But you do have my permission to pour me a glass with your actual hands when I’ve finished.” He raised his wand, then lowered it, “It might actually be quite a bad idea to Summon broken bits of glass, mightn’t it.”

Draco nodded, “You might Summon yourself full of teeny splinters. Maybe Vanish them instead?”

“Good thinking; I’ll try that,” Harry raised his wand to Vanish the remaining bits of glass, then siphoned away the rest of the wine also. 

When everything was tidy again, Toad was allowed to bring Draco his cane, and Draco thanked him with kisses and propped it against his chair. Then Draco got up and poured a glass of wine for Harry and half a glass for himself, since the wolfsbane lingering in his system tended to rather intensify the effects of a hangover. Just when Harry was up to his elbows in floury pastry and Draco was sitting comfortably again, there was a tap tap of a post owl at the kitchen window. 

“I’ll get it,” said Draco, though Harry was already wiping his hands on his pinafore. He slid out of his seat and opened the window, and when the owl flew in and landed on the kitchen table, his heart gave a lurch into his mouth. 

Draco knew that owl. He hadn’t seen her in years, but he knew her very well. She spread her speckled wings to steady herself as she held out one leg to offer him a scroll of parchment sealed in red wax. 

“No,” said Draco at once. “I don’t want it. Take it back to her. I’m not reading it.” The owl hopped toward Draco, flapping her wings and hooting reproachfully, until Draco gave in, “Fine!” He untied the scroll and turned to Harry, “Got a pencil?”

Harry pulled out his wand and conjured a pencil, which he handed to Draco without a word. 

On the outside of the scroll, without breaking the wax seal, Draco wrote his answer, LEAVE ME ALONE. He tied the message back onto the owl’s leg. “With my compliments,” said Draco sarcastically as the owl flew off through the open window. 

Harry shut the window with a snap, “Well that wasn’t very pleasant.”

“No,” agreed Draco. 

“It doesn’t have to ruin our evening, though,” he dropped a kiss on Draco’s cheek. “Maybe you’d like a hot bath while the pie is in the oven?”

“Thanks,” said Draco. “Hot bath sounds marvellous.” 

…

Harry insisted on drawing the bath himself, and he tipped nearly half a packet of Healer Moon’s Soaking Powder for Sore Muscles into it. Then when Draco was up to his chin in the fragrant, steaming water, Harry disappeared momentarily and returned with a cup of tea. 

“You’re so good to me,” Draco leaned back against his bath cushion and held one hand out to receive the teacup. 

Harry sipped from the cup, one eyebrow raised, “This is for me, actually.”

“Oh!” Draco instantly withdrew his hand. 

“Only joking, here you are,” Harry handed over the tea with a little laugh. 

“Awful,” Draco splashed Harry and quite a lot of bathwater went into his teacup. 

Harry laughed harder, “Bad luck. Live by the sword and die by the sword, I’m afraid.” 

“Appalling,” Draco tutted. “I don’t know why I put up with you.” 

“Bad luck, you've fallen in love with me.”

“Ergh,” Draco rolled his eyes, but smiled when Harry leaned over brushed his fringe back from his face to kiss his damp forehead.

…

When Draco emerged from the bath wearing pyjamas that he insisted on pinching from Harry and wrapped in his favourite flannel dressing gown, he found Harry sitting on the floor, surrounded by their gifts for Teddy with a roll of wrapping paper spread out on his lap. There were quite a few gifts for Teddy. They had agreed on and bought a toy broomstick in Diagon Alley, since the one Teddy had was getting much too small for him. 

And then, on a visit to London to see Ron and Hermione, they had chanced into a muggle bookshop where they bought a stack of books that’d reach Teddy’s knees. Draco had subsequently insisted on going to Flourish and Blott’s, so in addition to  _ Madeleine, Mary Poppins, Winnie the Pooh, Frog and Toad, _ and  _ Paddington, _ Teddy was also getting  _ The Tales of Beedle the Bard, The Adventures of Young Abelard, The Mushroom Children _ , and  _ Mr Pickle’s Improbable Potions _ . 

All in all, Harry was half-buried under a sort of gift avalanche, having toppled the stack of books over himself. 

Draco came and perched on the arm of the sofa, “Do you need help?” 

Harry shook his head, “I’m fine, only I can’t find the scissors.”

“Under your left knee, though I’m sure I don’t know why you’re fussing with those things instead of just using your wand.”

Harry threw him a dazzling if mildly sarcastic smile, “Oh, thanks! Mind checking on the pie? Should be ready to come out.”

Draco found that the pie was indeed ready to come out, and he set it on the table to cool and fill the kitchen with its delectable aroma while he put another pot of tea on. When it was all ready, Draco put the lot on a tray and Hovered it out to the sitting room. 

Harry had managed to unbury himself and stacked the books reasonably neatly around him. He’d only got one of them wrapped, and then apparently stopped to leaf through the books. He looked up from  _ The Mushroom Children _ when Draco entered, “Oh, I’d have done that.” 

“No trouble,” said Draco lightly, guiding the tray onto the coffee table. He betrayed himself by sitting rather heavily and leaning back against the sofa cushions once he’d situated the food. 

Harry jumped up and fixed plates and mugs for each of them and then went and laid a fire in the fireplace. Toad had been lying behind the sofa, but he came to look hopefully at the pie til Harry ordered him to his basket against begging. 

“Tuck in,” Harry urged, taking his seat beside Draco. “No need to wait for me.” 

“I despair of your manners, Harry Potter,” said Draco, but he fell on his food with eagerness. It was extremely tasty. The pastry crust was delicate and buttery with a moist, savory game filling. It was one of his favourite’s of Harry’s dishes, and Draco felt a little stronger just tasting it. His own brew of hot, sweet tea cut the pie’s richness nicely, and the whole effect was very bracing. 

As usual, Harry watched smugly for a moment while Draco ate before beginning on his own food, “When do you want to take this lot over to Auntie Andie’s for Teddy?”

Draco sipped his tea, “Maybe next week? Teddy’s usually a bit peaky around the full moon as well. Likely be perked up by Tuesday.”

“Why do you suppose that is?” asked Harry. “He doesn’t transform yet.”

Draco shrugged. They’d occasionally discussed little Teddy Lupin’s possible lycanthropy. He didn’t transform, but very small children often didn’t. And Teddy shared Draco’s heightened sense of smell and hearing, strong affinity for Toad and liking for very rare meat. Harry was convinced that Teddy would transform some day, but Draco wasn’t sure. He felt a little guilty speculating about it, as if predicting the outcome of a popular tv programme and not the likelihood of a young relation showing the most serious symptoms of a major illness. 

“Well if he does, he’ll have a better world to do it in, thanks to you,” Harry wiped a little gravy off the corner of his mouth and raised his mug as if to toast Draco. 

“There were a lot of people involved in that effort,” Draco said reflexively. 

“And I’m specifically proud of you,” insisted Harry, grinning. 

Draco tossed his head, “Because of love, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Harry’s sweet smile broadened, “Something like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you sure you feel up to it?” Harry had a tendency to fret over Draco for a week or so after the full moon, and six days on, he still had a bit of fretting left. 

Draco found it quite charming, though of course it wasn’t good form to let on. He smiled down his sleeve, “I think I can look at trees without collapsing on the spot, yes thank you.”

Harry rolled his eyes and straightened Draco’s hat, “I just don’t want to wear you out with the party tonight and everything. Do you want to bring your cane?”

Draco re-tilted his hat jauntily, “Ease your mind, beloved fusspot. My legs are all right today, and if I decide I need it after all, I can Apparate home and get it. I’ve had my Strengthening Solution. I’ve had the really excessive hot lunch you made. I’ve had a little sleep after breakfast. I can have a short walk and then sit in a pub til you start yawning because you’re the one who’s overdoing it, and you’re projecting.” 

Harry bent and clipped the lead to Toad’s collar, “And the trimming. Don’t forget the trimming.”

“Ah, you didn’t mention the trimming. That might send me over the edge. I  _ will _ die if I have to lift a bauble onto a tree branch.” 

“Funniest man in the world, right here in my own home. I’m so lucky.” 

“I’m usually too mannerly to mention it, but yes I am, and thank you for noticing. Are you ready?” And he took Harry by the hand and pulled him out of the cottage without waiting for an answer. 

They walked up to Hagrid’s cabin hand in hand, and found Hagrid, Luna, and Fang already setting off when they reached it.

“Oh there you lads are,” said Hagrid, cheerily waving his hatchet at them. “I’d almost given you up.”

“Harry’s always late,” said Luna serenely, going down on one knee to say hello to Toad. “And Draco’s too polite to leave without him.” 

“I’m not always late!” protested Harry.

“Oh, my love,” Draco patted his hand. 

Hagrid chuckled, “Well keep up, now. Gotta get all those trees up to the castle after we’ve cut em down. And I expect our Draco won’t want to linger in the forest after dark.” 

“I am not dignifying that with a response!” said Draco. Then added, “Except to say that I was  _ eleven _ !”

Harry kissed Draco on the cheek, “Don’t worry; I’ll protect you.” 

“Well good luck with that, because I definitely haven’t grown out of running away screaming, and if we see anything mad, I’m going to do exactly that.”

Luna nodded, “Very sensible of you.” 

“We’re not going properly into the Forest, so all we’ll be seeing is Christmas trees,” said Hagrid, already well ahead of them because of his huge strides. “Maybe a few squirrels and a bowtruckle or so in the holly.”

“Hagrid, you’re not really going to chop down thirteen trees with a hatchet, are you?” Harry called after him. “Why don’t you use your wand?” Draco was almost certain Harry had mended Hagrid’s snapped wand shortly after the war, which should have been impossible. Harry was very mysterious about the whole thing. Hagrid slightly less so as he always began to loudly talk about hippogriff husbandry whenever the subject was raised, which if nothing else, marked it out as a sensitive subject. 

Hagrid waved away the suggestion of using magic, “Some things are more magic without magic, aren’t they.”

There was no arguing with that. They all trotted after Hagrid to his grove of young evergreens on the edge of the forest. The air was spicy and cool with their fragrance, and something wolfish deep inside Draco prickled with eagerness at all the lively little scurryings emanating from the forest as they walked toward it. It made him feel hotblooded and vigorous. Draco squeezed Harry’s hand to steady himself a bit, and Harry squeezed back.

“We’ll want to go a little ways in,” Hagrid called, pushing on ahead as he spoke. “Out there’re only tiny ones.”

“Well that’s a relative measure,” Draco remarked, looking round at the trees towering over him.

“Yeah, we haven’t actually got a Great Hall,” Harry yelled after Hagrid. “We need one that’ll fit in our cottage.”

“I don’t think he heard that,” Luna drifted by them after Hagrid, Fang, and Toad at her heels. 

“Never mind about them. I think we can choose a tree without the aid of a committee,” Draco regarded a rather squat tree. 

“That’s shrubbery! Not tall enough.”

Draco tossed his head, “Lucky for you, I’ve an interest in shrubs.” 

Harry threw a snowball at him. 

Draco gave a little scream as it broke apart on his face and brushed the icy powder furiously out of his nose and mouth, “You’re a dead man, Harry Potter!” 

Harry laughed and ducked behind the shrub to avoid Draco’s retaliation, “That’s what they all say!” Draco pulled out his wand to bewitch his snowballs to fly after Harry, who flattened them with a Shield Charm, “Cheat! Filthy cheat! A real man makes snowballs with his own hands, Draco Malfoy!”

“All’s fair in love and war!” Draco tried to dodge another snowball, and caught it in his shoulder instead of on his face. He flicked his wand and sent another volley of snowballs after Harry. 

Harry and his Shield Charm, barrelled right through the barrage, and when he was in range, he grabbed Draco round the waist and dropped them both into a deep and fluffy snow drift at the foot of a boulder. 

“Help!” Draco shouted. “Murder! Harry Potter’s trying to kill me!” 

Harry’s hat had come off, and his glasses were fogged and completely askew. He was laughing so hard that he could barely speak, but he managed to pin Draco’s arms down, and lean over him so that they were face to face, “Traditionally, here’s where I’d make you eat snow.” 

“Brute!” Draco snapped his teeth at Harry’s chin. His nose was still tingling from Harry’s earlier efforts. “I’ll have you arrested!”

“But,” Harry continued, as if Draco hadn’t spoken. “You look so pretty all pink and grumpy that I think I’ll just,” and he kissed Draco, first on the tip of his frozen nose, and then ardently on the mouth. It was quite warming. 

“All right, then,” Draco gripped Harry’s robes and threw a leg over his back, “Let me up; we’ll be soaked through.” He suspected Harry had put a Cushioning Charm on the snow drift because their descent had scarcely even jostled him. But he certainly wasn’t going to let on he’d noticed. 

“I’d love to be soaked through,” Harry pulled back Draco’s muffler to kiss his neck, sending his exposed skin into gooseflesh. Draco wanted to say something clever to that, but all he could manage was to giggle into Harry’s hair and enjoy how it smelled of sweat and snow and pine needles, til Harry took mercy on them both and clambered to his feet a moment later. Draco let Harry pull him up, then he cast a Drying Charm, evaporating the melting snow and perspiration clinging to their skin and clothes and leaving behind a thrill of warmth down the backs of their necks.

Harry kissed Draco’s forehead, then adjusted his hat, setting it at Draco’s preferred jaunty angle. Draco coughed just then so that he could hide his smile in his sleeve. 

“Look after yourself, you scarecrow,” Draco straightened Harry’s glasses and Summoned his hat. 

“Thanks,” Harry jammed the hat on his head, cockeyed so that Draco would fix it, and kissed him when he did, then caught both of Draco’s hands in his own and tugged them gently. “Hey. You’re my favourite person in the world. Do you know that?” 

Draco’s face heated at once, and he ducked his head, “I love you.” 

“I like the way you say that,” Harry kissed him again. “Like it’s a threat. Or an incantation or something.  _ I love you!  _ So much force.” 

“Well,” Draco hugged Harry, as he was still blushing and it was getting silly, his face prickling in the cold air just as it had done when Harry first hit him with the snowball. “It takes a lot to keep you in order.”

…

When Harry and Draco met their party at the Three Broomsticks, it was hung with festive ivy garlands and heavy holly wreaths, and the air was spicy with Madam Rosmerta’s mead. Madam Rosmerta had booked entertainment for every Friday evening in December, and that night a sweet-faced wizard with elaborately upswept locs in flowing green robes patterned with tiny golden trees crooned Celestina Warbeck songs on a little platform set up across from the bar. Witches in holly crowns were weaving through the crowd with trays of mince pies. 

Ron and Hermione had turned up early and secured a long table in the back as well as pitchers of mead and butterbeer and a whole tray of mince pies. Draco’s friends from the CCETL had turned up as well as the old Grimmauld Place gang, and so many people had clapped Draco on the back and thanked or congratulated him that he thought he might never stop blushing. There was first a lot of hugging and kissing and then a lot of toasts and a little weeping. And when the group had lapsed into cheerful but disjointed chatter, Draco shifted on his stool and turned to Harry, a little giddy with mead and fellowship, and feeling quite playful. 

Harry grinned at him, “You look at me sometimes like you think I might pull a rabbit out of a hat.”

Draco laughed, “A what? Rabbit? Is that code or something?”

Harry’s smile broadened, “I mean you look like you want something from me. I wonder what it could be.”

Draco stood rather abruptly and was pleased to note that he didn’t wobble under all that mead, “Dance with me?”

Draco had only seen Harry dance one time, about ten years ago and with great reluctance, so he was surprised that Harry rose at once with ready good-nature. Draco had mostly only asked to annoy him.

“I absolutely won’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll do my best not to step on your toes.”

Draco kissed Harry's hand gallantly, “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be the tug; you be the barge.”

“Mm, that’s the opposite of how it usually goes.”

Draco towed Harry toward the make-shift dance floor, “‘Opposite’ is debatable, as is ‘usually.’”

Harry laughed, “Have I got to fall in line and say ‘yes dear’? Is this tugging?”

“Good instincts,” Draco guided Harry’s hand to his waist and took the other in his own hand and was trodden on the instant they began to move, “Ouch! No, no, no you don’t. Get back here, Harry Potter. You’re not home free just because of that. Relax and put your hand here. That’s good. You’re thinking too h-”

“Opposites again.”

“Just bob along in my wake like a good little barge and instead of your disobedient feet, think of romantic compliments to pay me.”

Harry grinned, “You do know I’m leading, Mr Tug Boat?”    
  


Draco tossed his hair, “Well! If you can’t manage!” And he nudged Harry’s hand up to his shoulder and slipped an arm about Harry’s waist. 

Harry kissed his cheek, “Yes, dear.” He began to toy deliciously with Draco’s hair where it hung down his back, “I’ve thought of a romantic compliment to pay you. Shall I do it now?”

“Full steam ahead.”

Harry brushed a lock of hair behind Draco’s ear and leaned in to speak into it, “You’re so pretty under torchlight. Your eyes are shining.” 

Draco pressed his face briefly into the woolen shoulder of Harry’s robes but it didn’t diminish the warmth in his cheeks, “Oh?”

“Mmm,” Harry tightened his arms about Draco and twined a lock of hair round his fingers, “You’ve got silver eyes, you know. Like starlight.”

...

“Hello darling,” said Draco expansively, strolling up to Hermione’s seat at the bar to kiss her on the cheek and getting a mouthful of her hair when she moved at the last moment, “Pleh! Ergh, disgusting! No offence.”

“We’ve certainly been drinking, haven’t we?” said Hermione a little archly, smoothing her hair back from her face and grimacing at the bit that was still moist with Draco’s saliva. She seemed to have grown tired of sitting with the group, because she'd removed to the end of the bar and sat on her own, nursing a pumpkin juice and wearing a watch checking sort of expression. 

“Not you,” Draco prodded her arm and pulled an exaggerated glum moue, “You seem determined not to have any fun whatsoever.” He pulled out his wand and cast a Drying Charm that she dodged. 

“ _ Ask _ first! Those are awful on curly hair.”

“Sorry!” Draco considered, “Harry doesn’t mind them.”

“Harry cuts his hair every month and a half, so he’s not fighting an endless war against knots.”  Hermione laughed, then glanced around secretively, “You promise to get drunk enough to forget this completely?”

Draco saluted, “Right-o.”

She leaned in a bit, “I meant to do something today, and I never did find a moment alone to do it, and I’m dying to, but,” she gestured around them to indicate the party. "I suppose I'll have to wait til we go home. Ron's playing sparrow darts with Hasaan and Ernie, so. Bit distracted." 

Draco nodded til he realised she’d finished speaking, “There’s not much ‘this’ to this, is there? Not enough to go on, anyway. Or am I thick-headed?”

Hermione set her jaw, “You’re right; I’ll just do it now.”

Draco suspected Hermione was not listening to him, “Well I don’t think I really-”

Hermione definitely wasn't listening, “Could you cover for me? Or actually. I need a bit of moral support, I think. Come and wait outside the door?” 

Draco slid off his seat and swept a courtly bow that was mostly an accident of overbalance, “Whatever it is would be an honour, I’m sure.” 

And seizing her bag and Draco’s sleeve, Hermione towed them both off to the loo. 

“Moral support?” said Draco to the back of Hermione’s afro puff, as the door shut in her wake. 

Hermione popped her head out again a moment later, “Aren’t you coming?”

“Oh, am I?” Draco followed her in. “I don’t think I understand what’s happening. Generally you. You do this alone?” 

Hermione scoffed, "I'm not here to. Well, I am but." She shut herself into one of the cubicles, “I’ll explain in a moment.”

“The ends of these sentences must be real corkers,” said Draco loudly, turning on a tap in case she wanted the camouflage. 

Hermione emerged again a minute later, holding what Draco first took for a sweet wrapper. She thrust it out toward him, “Look!” 

“Er,” Draco looked down at the thing and realised it was a solid white plasticky sort of thing and only wrapped in the sweet wrapper, “Very nice. Is it erm.” He cocked his head, squinting at the plastic thing, “What is it?”

“It’s a pregnancy test!” hissed Hermione. “I’m pregnant!” 

“Oh!” Draco looked round the bathroom then back at Hermione, “Oh, that’s news to you as well, isn’t it? Oh. I. Am I really the. Should I fetch Harry?” 

“No!” Hermione tossed the pregnancy test into the bin and washed her hands at the sink. “Not Harry; I can’t tell Harry before Ron!” 

“But you told me.”

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully, "Well, Harry's my best friend, and Ron's my boyfriend, and it feels a bit. Wrong? To involve Harry before Ron, but telling you is different."

"Like telling your secrets to someone standing next to you on the train platform, because who cares about them?"

"Well a bit. But not exactly. There's just less. Baggage. That sort anyway." Hermione smiled at him in the mirror, “Thanks for the moral support.”

“You’re welcome, though I think all I’ve done so far is be remarkably slow. Still, happy it helped!” Draco shrugged. 

“I just need a sounding board who isn’t going to muddle me all up with a load of feelings.”

“Oh, do you? All right, then.” A pretty young witch came in with a lipstick in her hand but paused in the threshold. Draco turned and smiled at her, “Could you excuse us, please? We’re trying to have a little chat, and we’d like just a smidgen of privacy if possible.”

The witch looked uneasily from Draco to Hermione and backed out of the room without answering. 

“Thanks ever so,” Draco called after her. “And merry Christmas!”

“I wasn’t really expecting to be a young mum,” said Hermione into the silence that followed. “My mum was thirty-seven when she had me, and my dad was thirty-three. I’m only twenty-five. I’m practically an infant!”

"You've seen and done much more than most people at twenty-five," Draco pointed out. "And you're very er. Capable. You did save the world a bit back.”

“I am good at planning,” Hermione agreed. “And I mean. They waited because they were still in dental school. It isn’t relevant to me, though. _I’m_ not a dentist.”

“There you are!” said Draco cheerily, having no idea what a dentist or dentalspool might be. “Loads of people have kids at twenty-five! And you’re probably the cleverest person I know. I mean you  _ are _ the cleverest person I know. So if that helps. Ship shape.” 

“My mum’s a genius.”

“Well th--hang on, do you get on with your mum?”

“Yeah, she’s lovely.”

“Well, there you are, then!” said Draco bracingly. “A tick in the You Can Do This column!” He considered for a moment, “Though obviously, you don’t have to. If you don’t want to. I understand there are remedies.” 

Hermione gave him a hug, “Thanks for being so helpful, Draco.”

“You’re welcome!” Draco patted her on the back, “I’m still very afraid of you, so I wouldn’t dare be anything else.” 

…

  
  


“Why were you in the loos with Hermione?” Harry asked as they were meandering home on foot an hour or so later, too tipsy to Apparate. “At least I saw you lot reappearing, and it looked like you’d been in the loos together?”

“Oh I asked her if she’d put a plait in my hair, and we exchanged secrets about you in front of the bathroom mirrors,” said Draco airily. 

Harry laughed, “Well if that’s all, then.” 

“I told her you have a beautiful penis.” 

Harry gave Draco a little shove, “You didn’t!”

Draco laughed, “No, I told her that years ago actually. Your penis is old hat now.” 

Harry pulled Draco close by the hand and kissed him, “You’re really not going to say?”

“Mmmn,” Draco gave him a little squeeze. “I would tell you if it were mine to tell.”

“Okay,” Harry hugged back. “I’m going to consider it a mark of great personal growth that I’m not begging you to tell me anyway. But I really want to.” 

Draco raised his chin resolutely, “I’ll bear that in mind.” 

“Your hands are cold,” Harry put one of them in his pocket and Draco took it out again at once, as it wasn't possible to walk that way. “I can brew a ferrous potion for you tomorrow before work.”

Draco laughed, “You can’t, because it stews for six hours, and you’ve got to be at the garden centre at ten. And anyway, I think this is more a symptom of December than of lycanthropy. I’ve left my gloves behind by accident.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, “Well let’s go back and get them, then.”

“I don’t think I can manage two trips tonight,” Draco admitted. “I’m already tired, and my knee is doing something unfortunate.”

Harry considered, then pulled out his wand, and after two tries, conjured a small ball of blue flame in the air, “Hold out your hands. It won’t hurt you.”

Draco cupped his palms, and Harry lowered the little ball of fire into his hands. It hovered just above his skin, warm and flickering like heartbeat. 

“Thanks,” Draco looked away from the flame to meet Harry’s gaze. His eyes looked otherworldly in the blue glow of the fire. 

“Any time,” Harry pocketed his wand and tucked his hand into the crook of Draco’s elbow. “Gigantic mug of Pepper Up potion for you when we get in, I think,” remarked Harry presently. 

“And you,” Draco nudged Harry. "You get cold as well, St. Potter."

“That’s fair,” agreed Harry, grinning sheepishly. 

"And we want you well for your big performance tomorrow, don't we?"

They were turning into their lane, and as they reached the path up to their cottage, an owl swooped down out of a tree and dropped a letter on Draco’s head. It made a broad turn and disappeared into the darkness. 

Draco let go of his little fire and caught the letter automatically as it bounced off his face. He immediately recognised the handwriting on the envelope, “I suppose I could just. I’ll just burn it.” 

“Is it from-”

“Yes,” said Draco quickly, tucking the letter away in his robes. “Let’s get inside, shall we? It’s freezing out here, and I’ve lost my flames.” 

“Of course,” said Harry quietly. And he tapped his wand on their front door to let them inside. 

…

_ Draco,  _

_ I can hardly imagine you’ll read this. I can hardly imagine what I might write after three years of silence that would be worth reading. You have already told me not to write, and I cannot think what could change your mind. From what I hear of you lately, I have not known you well. I wish to most deeply, though I understand why you will not return such a wish. Your aunt has been helping me to understand, as she made a similar separation at your age.  _

_ I would not have imagined that you would choose not only to be so open about your condition, but also to demand that the world meet you as you are and bend the Ministry to your will at the highest level. What you have accomplished in a few short years is staggering. I am astonished at how you have managed to leverage your notoriety into influence. It is clear you have an extraordinary mind.  _

_ I regret everything that has come between us. If you were to write me back, I would be overjoyed to hear from you.  _

_ Mother  _

…

Inside the cottage Draco opened the letter almost at once. 

At Draco's beckoning, Harry read the letter over Draco’s shoulder and scoffed, “Thinks a lot of herself, doesn’t she! She doesn’t even apologise!”

“To her, this is groveling,” Draco folded it back into its envelope and locked it in his desk. 

“She makes it sound like a bloody coup. ‘Bend the Ministry to your will at the highest level’!” 

“That blood purity rubbish rots your brains, and she was in it more than twice as long as I was. She has a long way to go,” Draco shed his cloak, hat, and scarf and tossed them over his desk chair. “Lay a fire, will you? I’ll look after the Pepper Up potion.” 

Harry took off his things as well and took the lot to hang on the pegs by the door, “I just don’t like the way she talks to you.”

Draco sighed through his nose, “Yes, well. How do you think I feel? She’s a terrible mother. I’ve noticed, thanks. I’m not running back just because she wrote me a letter.” 

Harry had the sense to look mortified, “I just mean-”

“Yes,” Draco paused, modulated, “I understand what you mean. I don’t want to talk about it. Please. Let’s go back to the lovely evening we were having.”

Harry kissed Draco on the cheek, “Of course. I’m sorry. Go on and look after the potion, and I’ll lay the fire.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“How do I look?” Harry fluffed his white beard anxiously and peered into the mirror above the sitting room mantelpiece for about the dozenth time. 

“Appallingly sexy. And I do mean appalling. I truly hate it, and I’m planning to sue you actually. You’ve got twelve foot of shoulder, and I desperately want you to put your hands on me.” 

Harry laughed, “I’m serious! Think he’ll know it’s me?” He adjusted his long, red, Father Christmas toque to make sure his scar was hidden under it and smoothed a gloved hand down his red woollen front. 

Draco looked Harry over critically. His costume was lovely. They’d altered his scarlet Gryffindor Quidditch robes by adding luxuriant, creamy fleece from Luna’s flock on the Hogwarts grounds. Along with a few very careful Tailoring Charms to remove the Hogwarts crest and Gryffindor lion, it was unrecognisable. He had on a pair of dragon hide boots he’d borrowed from Draco and matching gloves, and of course he carried a sack of gifts, on which he’d had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm to make it easy to handle.

Harry had been carefully altering his appearance with disguise spells and had even changed his glasses into little golden half moons. If the glasses rather resembled Dumbledore’s, Draco was far too polite to say so. Harry’d only changed his actual features slightly to turn his eyes brown and his hair grey and tweak the shape of his nose. And after all that, his face was obscured enough behind his glasses, toque, and beard that he didn’t look like himself. He had tried growing out the beard naturally, but after only a few days of stubble, declared it was too itchy and used his wand to grow it on Christmas Eve morning. Draco found every phase of the beard very acceptable. 

Harry shrugged expectantly, “Well?”

“Your features are different enough, but your expressions are unmistakably Harry Potter,” Draco smiled. “That’s all right; Father Christmas should be quite familiar.”

Harry smiled back, “Quite familiar, yeah. And what about you? Are you sure you don’t want to go in costume as well? Be one of my fairies?”

“I’m quite festive enough already, thank you  _ very _ much,” Draco was dressed rather for the Weasley Christmas party they were due for later in the evening than for Teddy’s entertainment. He was wearing robes of deep turquoise that shimmered silver under firelight, and he’d braided tinsel into his hair before twirling it into a knot at the back of his head. He’d even put his earrings in. He smiled at his reflection and straightened the silver fastening of his cloak where it shone at his throat. 

Harry laughed at his preening, “You like being a pretty young man, don’t you?” 

“Mmm, you should try it some time,” Draco reached out and rubbed playfully at Harry’s beard. It was much softer than he’d been expecting. 

“You do look good enough to eat,” Harry raked his eyes over Draco with ample satisfaction. “Do you think we have t-”

“No, we do not have time,” Draco swept on his hat. “You told Auntie Andie you’d put Teddy to bed. His bedtime is eight o’clock, and it’s a quarter til, and if you get him all excited and keep him up late, she’ll have your head and mine as well for good measure.” 

“All right we’ll come back to it later, then,” Harry shouldered the bag of toys and they went out into the front garden and Disapparated. 

They landed about a quarter of a mile away from their destination so that Teddy wouldn’t hear the pop of Apparition and continued to the house on foot. When they arrived, Harry went out back to get onto the roof, leaving Draco to knock on the front door. 

Andromeda answered, looking a little put upon, though decidedly festive in black robes patterned with silver snowflakes, “Ah, here you are, Draco! Teddy’s been expecting you.” 

“Here I am,” Draco kissed her on the cheek, and she stepped back from the door to let him through. 

From somewhere in the back of the house, there was a small bang and a little voice being raised above it, “DRACO!” 

“Are you into your pyjamas and teeth brushed, Teddy?” Andromeda asked as Teddy rounded the corner into the sitting room at a gallop. “Nearly time for you to be-”

Teddy interrupted his grandmother by barreling past her to launch himself at Draco. To his credit, he was wearing pyjamas and had a smudge of drying toothpaste on his chin. His curly hair was vivid pink, but he seemed to like the colour of Draco’s robes, because he pressed his hands to his face and his hair changed slowly to turquoise. 

Draco crouched down to catch Teddy in his arms and hugged him, “Merry Christmas, Ted! I see you didn’t miss me at all.”

“I missed you  _ loads, _ ” Teddy insisted, wrapping his arms tight around Draco’s neck for a bit of emphatic throttling. “Have you brought me a present?” 

Draco half-shrugged, “Was I meant to?”

“It’s Christmas!” Teddy wailed. 

“Ah, then you must have brought me a present,” said Draco smartly, holding out his hand. “I’ll have it now, so I can open it before you go off to bed.” 

Teddy looked aghast and clonked his head theatrically against Draco’s shoulder, “I don’t have anything!” 

Draco laughed, “Ah well, I expect it’ll work itself out somehow. Has Father Christmas been by yet?”

“He comes when you’re sleeping,” Teddy chided, squirming to be let go of. 

Draco released Teddy and straightened up, “Then I’m surprised you’re still up.” He caught eyes with Andromeda over Teddy’s head and she gave him a grateful look. “I’d expect a smart lad like yourself to be fast asleep by now and clear the way for Father Christmas.” 

Teddy sighed sagely, “It’s hard because I’m  _ excited _ .” 

“I know the feeling,” Draco commiserated, clapping Teddy on the back. Above their heads, there was some impeccably timed scrabbling and shuffling on the roof. 

“Oh Teddy, my love. Do you hear that?” Andromeda looked up at the ceiling. 

Teddy clapped a hand to his mouth, muffling himself, “Is it Father Christmas?” 

“And you still up chatting,” Andromeda tutted. “Best run and jump into bed before he sees you up and decides to come back later.”

Without a word, Teddy turned and sprinted off down the corridor to his bedroom. 

“Good night, Ted,” Draco called after him. 

A moment later, Harry’s disembodied voice floated down the chimney, murmuring the incantation for the Undetectable Extension Charm, and then there was a little grinding as the bricks spread and Harry himself appeared, boots first. Draco bit back an injunction against scuffing and watched Harry brush soot off his robes. 

“Hi Auntie Andie,” Harry whispered and hugged her, leaving the merest dusting of ash on her cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, Harry darling.” She patted his face and pointed him toward Teddy’s bedroom, “He’s waiting for you.” 

Harry nodded and crept down the corridor to Teddy’s room. Andromeda and Draco followed at a distance and hid behind a corner to observe the interview. 

Teddy had left his bedroom door slightly ajar, but Harry nudged it open wider and pushed his head through to address Teddy in the deep, slow Father Christmas voice he’d been practising all day, “Is that little Teddy Lupin? My goodness, you’ve grown a good deal since last year.” 

Teddy was lying in bed, his face screwed up with the effort of pretending to be asleep, but he sat up at that, “Father Christmas?”

“Of course,” Harry came in to sit in the chair beside Teddy’s bed. “Merry Christmas, Teddy.”

“Merry Christmas.” Teddy raised his little chin thoughtfully, sniffing the air around Harry, “You smell just like my godfather.”

“That’s because I’ve just come from his house,” said Harry smoothly. 

“Oh,” said Teddy. He sniffed again, “You must have been there an awful long time. My cousin lives with Harry, and even he doesn’t smell as much like Harry as-”

“I was there an awful long time. But most people don’t like to hear about what they smell like,” said Harry firmly. 

“That’s what my granny says.”

“She’s exactly right, and you should mind her.” 

Auntie Andie stifled laughter in the heel of her hand and glanced back at Draco who put a finger to his smiling lips. 

“Hm,” said Teddy diplomatically, apparently unwilling to quarrel with Father Christmas about reasonable social expectations. Draco privately agreed with him that smells ought to be admissible. “I didn’t see you last year; did you see me? You usually come when I’m asleep, don’t you?” 

“I do, and I was going to be on my way and come back later so as not to disturb you, but your cousin told me you were having a little trouble sleeping tonight, so I thought you might like me to read you a story before I leave your presents.” He hefted the sack and held it out to Teddy, “Most of these’ll be for your pillowcase, and you can open them tomorrow when you get up. But why don’t you choose a story to listen to tonight?”

Teddy plunged his hand into the sack and pulled out a wrapped book. He tore off the paper, and crowed his approval, “It’s  _ Abelard _ !” 

“It’s  _ Abelard _ ,” echoed Harry. “And I’ll read it to you. Now lie down on your bed and get comfy. I’ll tuck you in.” Teddy obeyed, and Harry opened the book, 

_ Long ago, when your great grandfather was in short robes, there was a young frog named Abelard who dearly loved to sing… _

Draco listened with something warm and soft growing in his middle, grateful that Andromeda was distracted enough not to notice if his eyes were a little bright. From the sitting room came the distinctive  _ whoosh  _ of the Floo. 

“I’ll check on that,” whispered Draco to Andromeda. 

Draco went back to the sitting room and froze on the threshold. His mother was standing on the hearth, facing the mantel, having evidently just emerged from the Floo. She was looking at her reflection in the mirror above the mantelpiece, smoothing the black mink collar of her black velvet robes. She was wearing a little more glamour than when he’d last seen her so that she looked agelessly elegant and handsome, despite the new silvering at her temples. 

Draco wanted to push past her, dive into the Floo, and disappear. He couldn’t move. Behind him, he could just hear the low, sweet murmur of Harry still reading to Teddy, the words indistinguishable. 

Mother caught sight of him that moment, and turned with a sharp intake of breath, “Draco.” 

Draco jerked his head in acknowledgment and was grateful when his aunt stepped past him from the corridor and walked forward to meet her sister. 

“Cissy, you’re early.” 

Mother answered with her eyes still fixed on Draco, “I suspected. I thought I might.” 

Draco found his voice at that, “No. You might not.” 

“Come into the kitchen with me, Cissy,” said Andromeda quietly. “Let me pour you-”

“I want to speak to my son,” interrupted Mother. She took a few steps toward Draco, “You look very well. Such exuberant robes.” 

Draco stepped back from her, “‘No’ I said. I know what you really think of me.” 

“Draco, don’t be.” She checked yourself, “I have underestimated you.” 

“I don’t care about being  _ underestimated _ , I.” Draco shook his head, edging back from her until he met the wall, “I don’t want this! Sort yourself out without me. I’m not the person to condole you for missing your chance to know your son.” 

There was footfall in the corridor, and Draco turned toward it, hugely grateful to find Harry behind him. 

Harry took Draco’s hand protectively, “Teddy’s asleep. I suppose we ought to be off to the Burrow.” 

“Suppose so,” said Draco. Mother was watching them, wide-eyed. Draco squeezed Harry’s hand hard, his left forearm tingling, and tried not to look at her. Tried not to imagine what she must be thinking. 

“Merry Christmas, Auntie Andie,” Harry reached into his significantly diminished gift sack to offer a present to Andromeda. 

She took the parcel and tucked it under her arm, “Merry Christmas, dear. I’ll see you both soon, I’m sure.” 

“Absolutely,” Harry gave her a one-armed hug without letting go of Draco, then lit the fire with his wand and tossed in a pinch of Floo powder. “After you,” he said, one hand on the small of Draco’s back. 

Draco stepped in without a backward glance, “The Burrow.” And he shut his eyes as he whirled away in a blaze of green flame. 

…

To the profound surprise of all concerned, including the ladies in question, Draco had managed to broker peace between Ginny and Fleur during the Grimmauld Place years. As a result of this accord, Ginny brought Draco and Fleur along with her when she ascended to her bedroom, claiming that she’d neglected to wrap any of her presents and needed their help. 

“We’ll just have a sneaky one to get us through this,” she said, plunging her arm down the bottom of her trunk and rummaging for something. She’d taken over the attic room when Ron had moved in with Hermione and gone to some pains to make it comfortable, though it was very untidy except for Arnold the Pygmy Puff’s palatial cage, which was neat as a pin. 

“A sneaky what, exactly, Og?” Draco pushed aside some long quidditch socks, settled himself on a pouf and leaned back against the foot of Ginny’s bed. 

Downstairs, someone abruptly fiddled with the wireless and after a shriek of static, a chorus of  _ Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love _ filled the house. 

Fleur rolled her eyes up at the ceiling, “Oh mon dieu cette merde encore.” 

Draco laughed, “Tu ne penses pas que c'est romantique?” Fleur made a rude hand gesture. 

Ginny cleared her throat loudly and held up Luna’s hippogriff bong, “I hope you weren’t saying you wanted to stay sober.”

Fleur laughed, “Certainly not.” She reached out to receive the bong. But it was not to be. They heard footsteps on the stairs, and Ginny quickly stuffed the bong under the bed, just in time for her mother to knock on the door and then throw it open. 

“Oh good, you’ve finished. Come down and do the punch, will you, Ginny?”

Ginny smiled innocently, “Ron said he wanted to do the punch.” 

“Then come down and spend time with the family. Charlie’ll be here any minute. Draco, darling, I think Harry was looking for you. Fleur, Bill was having a little trouble with Victoire. Something about a blue cat?”

“Oh the blue cat,” Fleur rose with a shake of her lovely head. “We cannot sleep without the blue cat. She is still in the airing cupboard after her cereal bath this morning.” 

“She’s at such a fun age, Victoire. I’ll see you all downstairs soon I’m sure,” said Molly, but she politely shut the door behind her. 

“Change of plan,” said Ginny when they were alone again. “I’ll use a Hover charm on this,” she lifted the bong. “And send it out of the window. Then we’ll meet in the back garden in five minutes.”

Fleur and Draco agreed, and they dispersed. 

Draco found Harry in the kitchen, still dressed as Father Christmas and helping Hermione press gingerbread men out of a wide slab of gingerbread dough. Ron actually was doing the punch on the bench near the stove. Harry’s disguise spells were fading so that he had one brown eye, one green and great bald patches in his beard and silver patches in his black hair. 

“I can put you right, if you like, my love,” Draco offered, stroking the straggling remainders of Harry’s beard. “You look a bit silly like that.”

Harry laughed, “Go on, then.”

Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry, “Finite incantatem.” A pool of brilliant green appeared and spread in Harry’s dark iris, the hair on his head darkened to a uniform black, and his remaining facial hair faded away, leaving his customarily smooth, brown skin behind. Draco cupped Harry’s jaw, and kissed him, “There’s my handsome face again.” 

“Mmm, I rather had the impression you were quite in favour of the beard before,” Harry bounced an eyebrow suggestively. 

“Oh that’s plenty, thanks,” said Ron. 

“ _ Nothing _ inappropriate has been uttered, Ronald,” said Draco a little severely, his hand still on Harry’s face. “Grow up.” 

“We’ve got to head you off before you build up steam or it all gets out of hand. Luna saw you two diddling each other in the forest when you were meant to be choosing a Christmas tree, you know.” 

“That’s not what happened! It was a snowball fight!” said Harry indignantly, “There wasn’t any diddling!”

Hermione cleared her throat loudly, “Maybe you’d like to help us with the biscuits, Draco? They’re all plain; would you decorate them? And maybe we can stop debating diddling altogether.” 

“I know that request is meant to flatter me,” said Draco. “But I will accede anyway because I’m generous, and more so because my eye for design is impeccable.” 

Draco had a wash at the sink, then sat down beside Harry and began to decorate the gingerbread men with his wand. He drew a Weasleyish jumper with an H on it. A pair of glasses. 

Harry looked over his shoulder and nudged him, “Sop.”

Draco made the tiniest zig zag, “Can’t believe I’m being spoken to this way by Father Christmas.”

Hermione leaned in suddenly, “We’ve had the first sonogram yesterday,” she whispered. “And Ron’s been acting strange ever since.”

Harry’s eyes went very large, “You. What?!”

Hermione looked at Draco, “You didn’t tell him?”

“You said I shouldn’t!”

“No, I said  _ I _ shouldn’t. Sorry Harry, I really thought he’d tell you.”

“It’s fine,” whispered Harry. “Congratulations. How are you feeling?”

“Thanks, it’s making me very nervous so far. Do you think Ron is acting strange?”

“Er,” They all looked at Ron. “He seems normal to me,” said Harry, though he looked oddly shifty. 

Ron laughed, “You’re all being a bit obvious. I can hear you whispering, and I can see you looking at me in the reflection on the window. I’m not actually stupid.”

“That punch looks really nice,” said Draco. “We were just saying.” 

Hermione turned her chair around to face Ron, “You’re being all rabbity, and it’s making me nervous. Can’t you just tell me what you’re up to?”

“Rabbity! I’m rabbity? I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.”

“Ron, come on. I’m your--” she mouthed the word  _ pregnant _ “girlfriend, and it’s Christmas. Can’t you just tell me?” 

Ron put down the ladle and came to stand beside Hermione’s chair, “I’ve just been laughing at myself, since you told me about the--” he mouthed the word  _ baby _ “because I know you’ll never believe I’ve had this for months. Since before your birthday. It was meant to be for your birthday, but er.” He glanced at Harry. “Harry wasn’t well, and it didn’t seem the moment. I thought there was a decent chance you’d known all along actually, so I’m quite pleased to have. Well. I’ve outplanned you. Feels pretty good.”

“Ron?” Hermione rose from her chair, “What are you talking about?” but her eyes had gone all melty as if she already knew.

Draco and Harry both felt the moment was right for a strategic retreat. 

“I’m expected in the back garden any time now, actually,” whispered Draco as he and Harry filed out of the kitchen. 

“I’ll join you,” Harry steered them out through the back door into the snowy garden. It smelled of cold and of chicken coops and mainly of weed, and Draco and Harry followed their noses to the shed, where Ginny, Luna, and Fleur had all crowded themselves in for an aromatic interlude. 

“Where’d you come from, Luna?” asked Harry, hugging her. 

“My mother used to tell me I came from heaven,” she answered dreamily. 

Ginny laughed, “She Apparated a few minutes ago.” 

“Ah merci. As-tu trouvé le canard bleu?” Draco asked Fleur when she handed him the bong. 

“C'était un chat,” she corrected him. 

“Où est la bibliothèque?” said Harry loudly. Fleur and Draco looked at him. “That’s all the French I know,” he added sheepishly. 

“Imagine learning a language you were not brought up speaking,” said Fleur sarcastically. “An insurmountable barrier.” 

“Suppose I was too busy saving the world,” Harry muttered, accepting the bong and lighting it with his wand. 

Draco laughed and kissed Harry on the cheek, “Peu importe, je t'aime de toute façon.” 

“They’re looking for a blue duck,” chipped in Luna helpfully. “Though it may actually be a Melodious Babbler. They look very like mallards, you know, but for their royal blue plumage on their heads. Have you heard it sing? Babblers are known for their beautiful singing voices.”

“C'était un chat,” Fleur repeated, hugging Luna about the shoulders. “And it’s only ah mmm a poupée. A doll for Victoire.” 

Ginny giggled foolishly, “Poupée. Ha. Anyway, should we go in and help with the snacks and things? I’m hungry.” 

“I’d just as soon get out of this shed,” agreed Draco. “I’m fairly sure I’ve got spiders in my hair.”

“Just one,” said Luna, looking at the top of his head. “But it’s quite a big one.” 

With a squawk of dismay, Draco shot out of the shed and into Charlie Weasley, nearly bowling him over as he left the house at the head of a procession of other Weasleys. The whole Weasley family seemed to be spilling into the garden. Just behind Charlie was his partner Mihaela and George, Lee, and Angelina. No one was sure if those three were in a relationship as such, but they had certainly become inseparable over the last few years. 

Percy was talking energetically to both his parents about their muggle ice box, an early Christmas present from Arthur to Molly. Molly was a bit distracted by handing round felt antlers. Bill had a sleeping and heavily bundled up Victoire in a sort of baby rucksack on his back. And bringing up the rear were Ron and Hermione, looking positively giddy. Hermione had a noticeable bulge in her left glove. 

“Would someone mind telling me what exactly is going on?” Draco asked as he was pushed forward into the crowd when the door of the shed opened again and expelled Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Fleur. 

“We used to start things off by going round and carol-singing in the village,” explained Charlie. “Back when we were all small. And George suggested we take it up again tonight.” 

“How excruciatingly wholesome,” said Draco, looking round at all the Weasleys who had now all got on felt antlers. 

“That’s usually what Mum’s going for,” agreed George, handing Draco a leaflet with the lyrics of  _ Good King Wenceslas  _ printed on one side and  _ The Holly Wand _ printed on the reverse. “She invented it some time in the eighties.”

Draco attached himself to Harry as the whole chattering group moved off, and they fell behind the crowd a bit, not chatting much, only holding hands and looking up occasionally at the dazzlingly starry patches of night sky every time there was a break in the low, plump clouds. The moon had dwindled down to a comforting golden crescent, and the air smelled of wet evergreen and frozen earth, and despite the cold, it was a night to be out in.

“So, Ron and Hermione,” said Harry presently. 

“I know,” said Draco. “Lots of things seemed to have happened all at once for them.” 

“I used to have nightmares about this right after the war,” said Harry. 

“Because you always wanted Ronald to yourself?” Draco prompted when Harry did not elaborate. 

“I was really afraid they’d like. Leave me behind? Forget about me? If they got to be too happy together. Not my finest moments, I’m afraid.”

Draco pressed Harry’s hand, “And now?”

Harry smiled at him, “Well. I have you. And I haven’t forgotten about them over you either.” 

“Despite my best efforts,” Draco tossed his head. 

“I do love you more than anyone or anything else in the entire world,” said Harry almost carelessly. 

Draco’s face burned in the cold night air, “Authorities are still piecing together the details on what exactly predicated that.”

“Do you think you might want that someday? Kids and. You know. The rest of it.” 

“If you’re offering to steal a baby with me, then I accept,” said Draco, very impressed with himself for being able to speak at all. “Even this young Weasel, once it’s born, if you like.”

“I’m not actually bothered what exactly we do,” Harry confessed, pausing to draw Draco to him and kiss his hand. “I just want you to know I love being a family with you.” 

“I love you,” Draco told him, and heard in his own voice what Harry must have meant. It did sound like an incantation. A call out to some natural force at large in the universe. A demand of something that lived in Harry’s skin and guts and bones. In his own. 

“I love you,” said Draco again. 

And Harry kissed him. 


End file.
